Memes
by Elis Island
Summary: I dare you to open this story and read it. And, I dare you to leave a review, because if just 15 people leave one tear-jerking review , I'll be forced to write a fourth chapter and if you hate me, tell me and even then, I won't change this summary. Anyways, this is currently about an angry lady that hasn't even met the Avengers, yet. HAHA who wants that? I do. I want that.
1. Chapter 1

AN: My first combo of words got deleted on accident after I exited the browser on accident and now I have little to no reason to exist. If this meme of a story gets more than 3 reviews, I'll write the next chapter.

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You know, if anyone was to ask how my day was going, I'd probably kill them.

A bit extreme, I know, but there's something just so irritating about today. I mean, it's definitely not my fault that I'm on the back of what I believe to be one of the most advanced cars I've ever had the pleasure of riding on. In fact the driver, oh wow, just wow.

I'm not gonna lie, I think the driver's an alien.

Yeah, I'm on the back of a floating chariot.

Okay, so New York is under attack. I know, weird right? How strange. New York. Under attack. Honestly though, what's new? Dust was everywhere, cars were on fire, and overall, it smelled like rotten steak that was left too long on the grill.

New York was one big, gigantic, hot mess right now. But, aside from that, I think we've had worse days. The alien didn't look to happy with me on his car.

The alien didn't look too happy at all. In fact, in all my glorious stupor of staring in absolute shock at this abnormality, it pulled out a gun.

And not just any gun. No, this gun almost looked like the gun from Men in Black. K would be proud. I only knew one thing to do. I watered the alien, not with just any regular loser-like water, no. My sweet white can, unfortunately made of plastic, contained good ole' Reezer's Product 951.

The alien quickly realized that, no I wasn't trying to wash the blood stain off his shoulder. With a quick splash of Mr. 951, the alien promptly screeched, quite loudly, might I add. I couldn't blame him. Reezer's was made with the sweet purpose of disintegrating a tree trunk, which is actually hard to get rid of.

After E.T. hollered out some alien profanities, he made a swipe at me with his talon-like fingers. My worthless $4.00 shirt from Best Buy was torn to shreds, leaving my Old Navy sports bra out for the whole world to see. I almost fell off that strange car, but luckily I just managed to grab the blackened railing of this knock-off chariot.

I think my skin got cut too, because as soon as he stumbled back, the muscles in my stomach stung, like really bad. Like, bad bad.

Like, it hurt a lot.

The pungent odor of burnt alien guts didn't smell to appealing either, lemme tell ya. I, the brilliant tactician here, made an actual grab for the out-of-the-movies gun. Yes, I actually went for it, believe it or not.

I actually grabbed the strange, arm-length monstrosity, jammed my hand where I thought the trigger would be on this sucker, and my luck prevailed.

The alien must've turned the safety off (do alien guns have a safety?), because when I pulled that trigger, I could've sworn I heard a whimper from the acid-scorched, unfortunate thing. A beam of pure, hot, energy shot from the gun and the alien didn't have a chest cavity anymore.

To be honest here, I had just gotten out of the shower before I was grabbed by the alien on my roof. Yeah, I was killing the disgusting sycamore on the top of my apartment with Reezer's Product 951. But that's besides the point.

My hair and my face, and oh my glob, some of it got in my mouth. I was covered in alien guts and yeah, it wasn't pleasant.

For the first time since my grunt of disgust at spotting the sycamore I was going to absolutely destroy with Reezer's, an audible yelp of pain shot it's way out of my mouth, and I spit the near gut-wrenching blood out of my mouth. Locking my knees, I forced myself to stay standing, because generally when you kill the driver of a car, someone's got to drive, and you'd better believe I damn near jolted out of my alien-killing shock, and managed to just grab the reigns of the strange, floating UFO. The MIB gun clattered to the ground of the chariot to my right, but I paid it no mind.

I was too busy trying to pull the reigns as hard as I could, and unlike horseback riding, there wasn't anything to react to the reigns, and just exactly like horseback riding, as soon as I pulled my arms out of their sockets trying my damn hardest to make the thing go up.

Go up. Go up. Go up.

The chariot as if hearing my thoughts, just managed to rear it's crudely-shaped nose up and instead of going forwards, we were going up, up, up, just missing the glass of the Stark Tower. The body of the alien fell out almost immediately, as the chariot and myself went vertical. I was holding on for dear life, because when life gives you an inopportune moment to practice your pull-ups, you just got to grab on for dear life and pray everything goes alright.

The chariot swayed to the left as I tried to pull myself up with my left hand. I quickly figured out we were traveling in a reversed-parabola, and almost as if the chariot was reading my thoughts, we did a full 180 and now we were horizontal, and I took a moment to promptly throw up over the chariot, because I wasn't about to ruin my newly acquired ride. I stumbled back, and fell to my knees, the chariot now behaving when I released the reigns.

We were still, in the sky.

The glowing gun to the right of my knees was twinkling in the sunlight, and its blue-energy stripes seemed to gloat at me. Growling, I wiped my mouth and figured that the damn thing must've been magnetized to the chariot. Lucky bastard.

I snatched it up, as if suddenly gaining a third limb. How was I still alive?

I didn't know.

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AN: Here's the deal, you like what you see? Tell me. Give me three good review and I'll continue this vomit-inducing combination of words.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm only writing this because no one in my house is asleep and neither am I. I haven't hit 3 reviews yet, thank glob, so maybe I won't upload this, but then again...

Maybe I will.

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Before my days of stealing flying cars, I was but a simple woman making a small fortune via working a 9-5 desk job. I definitely wasn't drawn to New York because of falling victim to the elegant art of being cat-fished.

That's right, I was cat-fished. You might be wondering why I chose FarmersOnly. To be honest, the commercials were so corny and so cheesy, and lets be honest, who doesn't love a good, cheesy online dating site?

I didn't move to New York because a hunk with a cowboy hat promised dancing dates and good times. That'd be pathetic. No, in fact, I was born in New York. I definitely wasn't born in Ohio, and I definitely didn't graduate with a Bachelors degree in computer science. That'd be such a lame backstory.

I wanted to experience love. Sappy, isn't it? I want to say that I belong in a cheesy, Christmas-miracle movie centered around the main character finding love. But, I don't think they let car thieves on Hallmark.

When I found out that senpai wasn't in fact 'Hunter, 26, likes to get up and smell the roses,' you could imagine my shock when I found out he didn't actually exist. A quick call to the United Kingdom proved that it was in fact, a scam.

With no time to dawdle on a simple mistake anyone (and I do mean anyone) could've made, I put on my big girl boots, put one shaky leg in front of the other, and hauled my ass up. I still had an iron-like grip on the now deceased alien's gun (poor guy), and honestly, I'm living the New York dream, baby.

Everything caught up to me at once, in that weird, oddly-timed inspiring moment fit for a postcard. I'm in New York, and I'm in a supped out chariot that would put Alexander the Great to shame. I'm also holding a dope-ass gun from MIB, and I killed an alien today. I crossed things off my bucket list that I didn't even know were on my bucket list.

What do I do now, you ask? Well, as Shrek once said, it's kill or be killed.

It must've been fate that I remembered to bring my fanny pack WITH MY SUNGLASSES IN IT, because you'd best believe that I put those sunglasses on. Cocking the gun (I honestly didn't know how to 'cock a gun,' but I jiggled it a little bit and it made a metal sound, so it was cool), I snatched the reigns with one hand and alienized AK-47 in the other. With the second amendment by my side, and my only regret being that I didn't own a black leather jacket to wear in the moment, I tried to ignore the slight (a little more than slight tbh) tear to my abdominal muscles.

With my ass in gear and my adrenaline pumping some damn good vibes, I impatiently yanked the reigns up, and me and Brad (my gun), started our descent into madness. I'm straight up not gonna lie, I wish I had a camera, because this was singlehandedly the most badass thing I'd ever done (besides killing that alien). The chariot raced down Stark Tower, and the wind was screaming in my ears, mixed with the war cries of Earth's newfound enemy, the aliens. The ground was crawling with alien masses, some firing rounds of photon beams at my unstoppable chariot. It turns out, they made their own chariots immune to photon blasts, so I, being the cowardly computer tech I was, crouched behind the chariot and raised Brad with the remaining bravado I had. I couldn't pull the trigger fast enough.

Whether the furious, hot blasts of photonic energy hit a screeching lizard or not, it wasn't my problem. Approaching the ground, I yanked down on the chariot's reigns harshly, and we went horizontal again. If pod racing wasn't a sport before, it was now. What they didn't mention in Star Wars, was that chariot-racing was tough on the arms. My arms were honestly on fire, and I'm not sure glob gave us arms so we could steer a chariot with one, and shoot a semi-heavy gun with the other.

Now, I work out, but... not everyday. Sure, I'll go the gym, lift weights, run some miles every now and then, but I deeply regret not improving my personal stamina, because a building was coming up and it was coming up fast. I had a choice to make: turn the chariot and drop Brad, or make a leap of faith with my stolen weaponry.

When I yeeted Brad over the side of the chariot, I swear I heard someone shout "fuck!" but it could've just been my imagination. With a heave and a ho, I pulled the reigns as hard as I could to the right of me, and oh glob.

Not only did I booty-bump a chariot (I swear it wasn't there when I started turning), but I booty-bumped a chariot, with two other aliens, into the side of the building I was coincidentally trying to avoid. My cheap-ass sunglasses fell off, and if I didn't have the aliens attention when I was dive bombing them from Stark's Tower, I certainly had it now.

I was a mess. Sweaty, breathing hard, and covered in blue alien blood from my first kill, I probably looked like a war-torn Smurfette to the casual passerby. Weaving in and out of buildings, I started to gain altitude, cautiously pushing the reins down a little. Nobody was chasing me (thank glob, because I ditched Brad a long time ago). I slowed down the chariot by loosening my tight grip on the reigns a little bit, and looked around quickly, now that I wasn't in a bad spot anymore. There wasn't a sign of aliens at the moment, and I'd be a fool not to assess the situation right now.

Honestly if I was the only one kicking some serious alien ass, New York was going to be doomed. Looking down, I didn't feel so badass anymore, now that I assessed the damage to my stomach. It was bad, oh glob it was really, really bad. There were two long, ugly jagged slashes running horizontally across my stomach and the bleeding situation looked pretty bleak. Utilizing my only real survival knowledge (thanks Bear Grylls), I removed what was remaining of my shirt, tore the remining stripes of fabric holding it together, and tied that shit around my bleeding guts.

When I tied the final knot and yanked the two strands of shirt as hard as I could, I couldn't help but cry out like a little bitch. This was the first (and hopefully last) injury I'd ever gotten in my life, aside from various shaving accidents.

Reality gave me a big ole' sloppy kiss as I heard one of loudest, most shit-eating, bowel movement inducing roars of my life. Snapping my head to the source, and effectively eating a couple of salty strands of hair in the process, I got shit on by a bird that was flying overhead, and I suddenly realized why the bird had taken a shit, as I was also close to shitting myself.

It looked like an orca, if an orca had thirty fins on each side of its body, was 80 times bigger, and its DNA composition was loosely based on the appearance of the log I dropped that morning.

Can orcas fly? I don't think that's an orca.

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AN: The follow count is a little low, the reviews aren't fucking funny ya smartasses, and guess what? I still hate life, and life hates me. But guess what? Y'all just earned this chapter of a meme.

If you ever want to see this story alive again, you will give me 4 new reviews this time.

Look I'm about to imitate what someone wants to put in their review.

"This story isn't realistic. It's too short to actually judge. Where's the romance? Where's the Avengers? This story sucks ass."

I know it doesn't seem realistic, but neither are you. If you'd actually bother to keep up with the story, all will be revealed.

FULL SEND


	3. Chapter 3

AN: It's been forever, I know. Hello from 2020 I guess. Life happened and I no longer hate the story I guess. I hope it's as good as it was lol. If it isn't the same intensity as the other chapters, my humble apologies. It's honestly a piece of smelly garbage. Let me know if y'all want more.

Full Send.

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I'm going to be honest. I wanted to fly. I've always wanted to fly, and it was unfair. The universe was unfair.

unfairunfairunfairunfairunfairunfair

Why did this thing, this octopus of the sky, this ginormous, uncensored, _unfair_ creature get to fly? Why was I in a chariot? Why in the hell was I driving the chariot?

Reality checks were a thing of the past as I realized it was getting closer. The strain on my arms was more alarming then ever, and my stomach, bless its heart, if it had a mouth it'd be screaming. My skin was covered in sheens of sweat and ash, and I got the sudden pain between my shoulder blades that can only come from wearing a tight bra for too long. Ash was raining down on the city, like a failed superhero movie. It was ironic, because Tony Stark did live in New York, who'd come out as Iron Man a year or two ago. In fact, where was he?

Where was Iron Man? Where was the awesome metal superhero? Why wasn't he fighting? Why wa-

I was brought back to the present by a warm feeling rolling down my left leg.

I had peed.

With this newfound, disgusting fact, I promptly slapped myself, hard. This wasn't going to be the way I went, no ma'am. The plan was to die gracefully, in the arms of my lover, surrounded by friends that knew too much about me, that had too many stories about how I broke a leg skydiving or how I robbed a bank. They'd cry and weep about my death, as they should, but at the end of the day, they'd go home with nothing from my will. I was a piece of shit person, I'll admit. I never donated to charities or did any community work. I barely had enough money to pay rent and buy groceries as it was. No, when I died, everything would go to a charity, and hopefully a higher power would forgive me for anything I did in my life.

Grabbing the scorching reins once more, I pivoted the chariot around, gaining a newfound sense of confidence. My disgustingly beautiful gun was gone, but I could still try to outmaneuver the flying monster. With the chariot now facing the approaching monster, if I squinted, I could make out squinty, pudgy eyes the size of a car staring right at me. Taking a deep breath and promptly coughing out ash after, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and told myself to not be a wimp. After all, wimps didn't survive an apocalyptical invasion.

Accelerating the chariot, I locked my knees and bent down, trying to avoid the sudden influx of air whistling by as I flew towards the oncoming beast. My vision was starting to fill with dark spots as I zoomed past destroyed buildings. As I started gaining altitude, I made the chariot eye level with the beast, who only roared louder, promptly deafening me. It was four miles away, and I could only remind myself that I was only human. If it didn't work, it was a valiant effort. I didn't even have a plan, didn't even have a _chance_. Looking around the chariot, I spotted a sharp, spear-like pole tucked under the rim of the chariots handles.

_Had that always been there?_

Switching from two hands holding the reins to one, I snatched the spear a couple of inches from the spearhead. Glancing back to my target, I realize we were probably about three and a half miles away now. It was the perfect way to go out, even if it's not how I wanted to die. I'd die saving lives or trying to. There was no time to think, no time to debate what ifs.

It was me and the monster and the spear and my bad luck and my pee and that feeling you get when someone dies. At two miles away, I blinked and realized I was crying. The knot that had building up in my chest came undone and suddenly everything fell apart and I started bawling and realized what people meant when life flashes before your eyes. I saw my mom, my sister, my future. I saw my goals dissolve. I saw the world slow down and when I glanced at a passing building, I saw myself.

I saw this teary-eyed woman holding a spear who looked like she was about to commit suicide. But in actuality that's exactly what I was about to do, wasn't it? I wasn't going to get lucky and nail this thing in the eye. I was going to crash and burn and fall to my doom.

The world sped up and suddenly I was face to face with the monster. With the grace of an office worker, I grasped the spear tightly, and as I zoomed past the creature's face, I threw the projectile with a much force as I could muster. I tried to copy what I'd seen javelin throwers on TV do. It was the best I could do for now.

One of the most ferocious, blood-curdling roars was screamed as soon as my fingers left that spear, but I didn't look bad. I'd missed and someone had shot the thing with a rocket launcher, I was sure of it.

Not even bothering to check if I'd managed to semi-blind the thing, I sped past the creature, gaining altitude to avoid the spikes on its back. From above it, I could now see that it was in fact an armored worm that was able to fly? With no further time to ponder on what had happened or what the creature truly was, I escalated quicker than before, managing to avoid being seen by the rest of the chariot aliens below.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I released the reins and sunk into the chariot, holding my stomach and hoping this was all a twisted nightmare. The chariot stopped accelerating and waited, staying suspended in the air. I was safe for the time being but...

My hands were red. Quickly looking down, I caught sight of my stomach injury. The previously white shirt I'd used to bandage myself was now a maroon red. My vision was slowly going dark, and I fought whatever biological senses that were telling me to sleep. This wasn't the time. Shaking my head, I slapped myself a few times, and the darkness faded. Realizing that I wasn't as safe as I'd previously thought, I jumped up from where I'd been sitting and jerked the reins awake. The chariot sprung to life, and we were plummeting.

Quickly scanning for any roof that wasn't completely destroyed or overtaken by aliens, I narrowed in on a flat red roof that topped an untouched skyscraper. Licking my bloody lips, I directed the chariot down and suddenly we were vertical.

I must've had enough bad luck for today, because I managed to avoid any other aliens that were lurking around or fighting, I was so close, I could see the red gravel that covered the probably hot roof of the skyscraper. I could taste freedom.

I was a few feet away when the strange alien chariot suddenly went horizontal, as if my control had been revoked. I had no control, the reins weren't responding. I wasn't even to the roof yet, I was at least nine feet up and five feet away. Casting a quick glance around me, I spotted several of the aliens had collapsed either in their chariots or on the ground. The giant worms (there were more of them?) started dropping like hail, and I was filled with dread when the chariots themselves started dropping too.

With my instincts screaming at me, I released the reins as fast as possible, climbed onto the rails and waited. Feeling the chariot begin to freefall beneath me, I jumped, pushing as hard as I could off of the rails and toward the red roof.

Nothing was as satisfying as when I landed on that red roof, immediately twisting an ankle with the botched landing. Laying there on the red roof was comforting, and I wiped my eyes with bloody hands. My stomach was on fire, and I was more than willing to give in to the temptation to sleep this time.

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AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I know the story doesn't even seems plausible, but there's nothing possible in the Avengers Universe now, is there?

Don't be afraid to follow and like and leave a review lol. Haven't updated iin forever so hope yall like.

Full Send.


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